As the World Loses Sanity
by Xx666WriterOFAwesome666xX
Summary: When the bosses of each nation begin a battle to be the best, what will happen to the nations? Chapter two- Ludwig has reached Arthur, torture ensues! Will a srprise guest arrive in time to save him? Rated for Gore.
1. He Asked What?

**A/N: This story has implications of past Mpreg, and will be containing yaoi. Don't like, don't read. Future chapters will contain gore etc.**

**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya-sensei, not me :D**

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><p>No one knows how it happened, all we know is, The world is slowly going insane.<p>

Hetalia: As the World Loses Sanity.

Chapter One

WASHINGTON D.C., UNITED STATES, IN THE WHITE HOUSE, 2:14 P.M.

"America… We have to do something." America's boss looked the man down, expecting an answer to come flying out of his head.

"Mr. President, sir, I'm not so sure we can… I mean how? We have almost no troops left…" Alfred Jones, otherwise known as America by most, told him.

"How many times do I have to say there's always troops, boy! And I meant we need to own some country and get this over with! You remember the war for independence?"

Now, obviously this man didn't, but Alfred did. He and all of his fellow nation-people have been around for centuries. So of course he remembered. He remembered fighting England, he remembered breaking his heart, he remembered his cries, he remembered the pain, the sadness… everything. He'd never tell him, but Alfred was truly sorry for destroying England, he knew it took a lot to actually put him to tears, and he knew he had managed it, he hated himself for the longest time after that. But there was nothing he could do about it. Things are better now, but he still hears every now and again about how France overhears him talking to himself about it, or complaining with drunken stupor and it still hurts him.

"ALFRED!" The president yelled, he almost never used his actual name, so Alfred must've spaced out for quite some time.

"Uh, yeah? Er, yes sir I remember. Why?"

"Because, I think it's about time we give that man what he rightfully deserved long ago. A big old defeat." He said a tint of cockiness staining his voice.

"Wha- But, sir… Don't you think we should give him a break? I mean the German army is slaughtering him… them." America looked down, hoping he was okay… And yes, this does mean another power-hungry Hitler-like figure was running the German military yet again.

"Do you think I care? We could always make a deal with the Germans… then kill them later." Alfred's boss said a look of murderous intent creeping over his features.

"Uh…" Alfred just stared half in shock, half because that face scared him to all ends of the earth.

"You have no say." The president said practically reading Alfred's mind. "I'm your boss. I tell you to gather our troops and head overseas with the fighter jets, and you're to do it. Understand?"

"Sir, yes sir." Alfred said adding a salute on the end. He would hate himself forever by the time this is over. And so far, it's already starting,

This was not going to end well.

SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA, ALFRED'S HOUSE, UNITED STATES, 7:10 P.M.

As soon as Alfred was given that order he decided to head to his house, which took an exceptionally short amount of time to get there due to the fact that he had a jet waiting to take him. Upon arrival at his beautiful southern California home, he let himself in and decided to call his brother, Mathieu Williams, or Canada (How they're brothers with different last names was beyond him, they were blood related.). He dialed, and the phone rang about three times before it was picked up and Alfred heard the panting of his brother, who had probably ran the whole way across his house when there was a phone right next to him.

"H-hello?" came the soft, more quiet answer of the Canadian.

"Mattie! Hey!" Alfred said already cheering up, there was just something about Mathieu that made him all happy inside.

"Al? Hi… how are you?" Mathieu asked his voice shocked, as usual, that someone had called him. People don't really pay much attention to Canada these days so Mathieu is pretty much used to talking to his pet polar bear, Kumajiro.

"I'm pretty good, you?"

"I'm good…"

"Hey, Matt.. Can I talk to you?"

"Uhm… sure?"

"Okay, well my boss wants me to uh…" Alfred started not sure if he should continue for fear of his brother's response.

"What? What does he want you to do?" Mathieu replied getting worried, usually Alfred was the best at telling people things- unless they were bad.

"He wants me to attack mom…" Alfred finished.

Oh yes, and one other thing he forgot to mention, England was the mother of both Alfred and Mathieu, on the other hand, France, or more creatively named Francis Bonnefoy, was their father (That was another one of those unexplainable things that happened to many nation-people.).

"What? How could he ask you to do that?" Canada was practically talking at a normal volume now, which was semi-rare for him.

"I don't know, Matt. And he didn't ask- he told."

"You mean you have to? But what about all the Germans? Which reminds me, maybe we should call and make sure he's okay…" Mathieu sidetracked.

"He said he doesn't care about the Germans… He just wants to give him "a big old defeat" as he puts it." Alfred answered. "Yeah, we should do that… you want me to try and add him onto a three-way conversation?" Alfred offered.

"That would be nice…" Mathieu added returning to his normal volume.

"Okay, hold on a sec bro." Alfred then hit the three-way button on his phone. Ah, how he loved how technology allowed you to talk with multiple people all at the same time. So after he dialed the number of England, or Arthur Kirkland's cell phone (not being sure if he was home or not), he waited several seconds until the answering machine got it, deciding not to leave a message he thought maybe he missed it, so he tried again, and still got the voicemail. So he tried the home phone, hoping that he was okay. Finally he got an answer, but it wasn't from Arthur.

"Speak." Came the thick German accent through the phone.

"Uh, hello… is… is Arthur there?" America asked hoping to God he had dialed wrong.

"No."

"Do you know where he is?"

"Also no."

"Did I dial the wrong number?"

"Probably."

"Okay then, well bye." Alfred hung up that line and dialed his cell phone once more, third time's the charm, right?

"Ello?" Finally, the very weak, but still recognizable voice! He managed to get a hold of him!

"England?"

"Yes…? May I ask who's calling?" Arthur gave a smart retort, he knew very well it was him. It made Alfred feel better that the Germans didn't take so much out of him that Arthur couldn't make smart comments.

"Guess." Alfred said and then took Mathieu off hold.

"Hmm, probably, Alfred, and I'm guessing Mathieu is also on the line, am I right?"

"DUDE! How do you do that?" He had barely left any sign Mathieu was on, hell, Mathieu didn't know he was on yet.

"Call it intuition. Anyway, how are you?" Arthur asked politely, which wasn't all too unusual, he was a lot different around people he knew well. Basically, if he was with other people he wouldn't have asked that. The man took a lot of getting used to, but he was a nice person when it came down to it all.

"Good" Both Alfred and Mathieu said in unison, which was another common thing with them, being twins and all.

"That's good to hear, so, what can I help you with?"

"Woah, wait dude, how are you?" Alfred asked.

"Yeah, are you okay?" Mathieu chimed in, see he was a lot like Arthur in the sense that they were both different around people. Usually Mathieu would have kept quiet and Arthur would be yelling about one thing or another.

"I'm as fine as one could get when your nation is being invaded by psycho German soldiers who are hunting you down trying to kill you. But I'm peachy!" Arthur said with false enthusiasm.

They were hunting him down? Since when were they hunting him down? Had all his troops either fled or been killed? And could they really be so heartless as to kill him?

"They're hunting you down? Why?" Mathieu said what Alfred was thinking.

"Why else, they want me dead." Arthur added curtly, sounding like the Arthur they, unfortunately, know better than the nicer one.

"But, why?" Alfred questioned

"That's beyond me, but now on top of all this I was told that the Queen wants me to attack Francis, and that is just not going to happen. Even if I wanted to, I can't, but I don't want to anyway so it doesn't matter." Arthur said sounding weaker and more vulnerable than he had in a long time.

"Are you sure… you're okay?" Mathieu added, getting worried.

"Yeah… No." Arthur said followed by some shuffling and then a gunshot was heard by the brothers.

"Arthur? ARTHUR?" Alfred yelled becoming worried.

The phone made some weird noises as if it were either thrown or someone was taking it and running. Alfred hoped it was the second one, and he hoped it was Arthur running.

"…Al? Do you think…?" Mathieu's voice sounded as if he were going to break into a fit of tears at any given moment.

"I hope." Was Alfred's reply.

After a few more moments of the weird noises, they stopped dead. They could hear the faint panting of someone who sprinted quite a few blocks.

"…Arthur?" Alfred asked.

"… Yeah …?" Arthur huffed, very out of breath.

"What just happened?" Alfred replied.

"Oh… Nothing, just Germany… he found me….." Arthur replied, with even more of a heavy English accent than usual.

"What was that gunshot?" Mathieu added.

"Germany…. Well, Germany shot at me."

"Did he hit you?" Alfred and Mathieu exclaimed simultaneously.

"Uh… Define hit." Arthur replied.

"Oh God…" Mathieu stated

"How bad is it?" Alfred asked, understanding that by "define hit" he meant, "I was hit.".

"Uh, well I got hit in the shoulder, nothing bad, right? Eheh… Heh…"

"The shoulder? Are you sure you're alright?" Alfred said, concerned that the man was either lying or underestimating how bad it really was.

"Yeah I'm fine, owowowowow! Bollocks!" Arthur shouted, clearly in pain.

"What? What happened?" Mathieu asked, once again getting worried.

"Nothi- son of a tart!" The Englishman yelled about who knows what.

"Mom… what the hell?" Alfred stated.

"Nothing, I've got to go, talk to you later. Cheerio loves." And with that, the line went dead on Arthur's end.

"Uh… Al, what happened just now?"

"I dunno Matt… Obviously he had somewhere to be." Alfred said a little too coolly given the fact that what he had heard didn't even lead him to believe it was "nothing".

Something was wrong. They just had to figure out what it was.

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><p>You like? Please review! You will get internet cookies!<p> 


	2. The Germans have Arrived

Ah the sweet smell of blood, how we all longed for it.

Hetalia: As the World Loses Sanity.

Chapter Two

SOMEWHERE AROUND LONDON, ENGLAND, 9:08 P.M.

"Willing to give up yet?" The German asked bloodlust clouding his crystal blue eyes as he cornered Arthur yet again.

"On the contraire, my dear friend, I will NEVER surrender to you." Arthur glared menacingly at the man, forcing his pain to subdue, if only for the moment. His leg hurt from being shot and he felt weak, he hadn't been able to stay in one place long enough to manage eating much. When he did find time to himself it was spent drinking his pains away, which was absolutely not good. If Arthur ever gave anyone advice to use during times like these, it's to not, under any circumstances, drink yourself silly when you've had practically nothing else to eat or drink in days. And to never, ever, attempt at functioning.

His head throbbed from his drinking habit leaving his headaches getting worse and worse. Sure, he'd sleep the hangovers off, if he could. There was just no way. Arthur swayed to the side just slightly before catching himself, he hated the dizziness that accompanied you when you haven't slept in days either.

"You look tired, I could help you take a nice permanent nap." Germany, also called Ludwig, said somewhat soothingly, if it had been an option, Arthur would've gladly taken it. But no way in hell would he lose to him, not now, not ever.

"I'm going to have to pass you up on that one, I have a life to live you know."

"Not for long, for I'm afraid you've hit you expiration date. You've lived long enough, right?" Ludwig cocked his head to the side.

Woah, woah, wait a minute, was that git calling him OLD? He was most certainly not old.

"Excuse me, but what is your place to tell me when I'm going to die might I ask?" Arthur retaliated.

"I am the one with the gun, England."

"You think I haven't been shot before? Are you mistaking me for a young girl? I'm not afraid of you, or your little gun." Arthur stated straightening himself attempting to look prideful, but the dullness in his eyes from lack of numerous life necessities was detracting from it.

"Oh? Then this shouldn't bother you." Ludwig said, effortlessly shooting the Englishman's other leg.

Arthur took a deep breath. That hurt like nobody would believe. Arthur struggled to even stand, but somehow managed. He now had two legs with bullet wounds. Great.

"Nice shot." Arthur said trying not to make any noise that it had hurt him, and being successful, that is until the German man shot him in the stomach. Without even a second thought. It hurt like hell, you know what, hell probably hurt less than the pain Arthur was currently experiencing.

"How was that one?" Ludwig asked, his ice blue eyes cold and unwavering.

"Perfect." Arthur lied spitting up blood, he clutched his stomach like he would die if he let go, which he probably would.

"Would you like another?" Without even waiting for a response the German cocked his gun and shot the island-nation's shoulder. It would be connected to the arm that was holding him together wouldn't it?

Arthur shot Ludwig his very own death glare. The very same glare that made Francis back off when he wasn't in the mood, the one that always had both Alfred and Mathieu shaking and dreading over when they had done something wrong. Spitting up more blood, Arthur rose his previously bandaged arm, the arm that was not shot, and flipped Ludwig off. The German's face twisted into a combination of anger and a murderous, pleased look that showed he was happy for himself. What was wrong with this man?

"Look at yourself. You're really making this easy, aren't you, Angleterre. Is that what Frenchie calls you?" Ludwig asked butchering the pronunciation of his French name.

"So what if it is?"

"So it is, well let me just say that your name in French is very… feminine, it suits you. You disgrace your own queen, how do you feel about that? Imagine if those brothers of yours could see you now."

"They'd help me. Not hurt me." Arthur said spewing more blood.

"Right, so where are they now? They know you're being attacked, and yet where are they? Obviously not here." Ludwig added, content.

It was true, everyone knew the German army was on full force attacking England, not even the whole United Kingdom, just England. Yet nobody was there to help.

"I can handle myself." Arthur lied.

"Uh huh, so you normally don't eat or sleep, and drink yourself dumb every night, all by yourself? It's amazing your little husband isn't here getting whooped for you." Ludwig pressed on. He not only wanted to rip him apart physically, but mentally as well.

"He's… not my husband, for one. And he obviously has some other things of his own to deal with." Arthur spat up more blood and a look of sadness swept over his face.

"Okay, so you're now realizing that nobody likes you?" Germany continued antagonizing the wounded and slightly depressed Englishman.

"I- … No. You're a wanker. Why are you here? What do you want with me?" Arthur countered the German.

"Let's just say, payback." Ludwig responded after several moments of looking the barely standing, blood spewing, struggling to breathe Brit in front of him.

"Payback, that's great. I hate you."

Ludwig stepped toward the Englishman and looked down at him.

"Do you." He stated. That's right, not questioned, stated.

"I do. Very much. Now get out of my face." Arthur said, glaring at him. If you could really kill someone with a single look, then that German would be dead and Arthur would be done with him, but no. Sadly, life never works in Arthur's favor.

"How about no." Ludwig said stepping even closer.

"I'm telling you, I WILL curse you." Arthur threatened.

"You mean that sissy magic that only does… nothing?

"You'll be sorry…"

"Am I supposed to be scared? Because you're failing miserably." Ludwig said.

"Bollocks…" Arthur barely breathed.

"What? Realize your plan backfired?"

"No. My stomach just hurts a tad, but I'm alright." Arthur attempted to straighten his posture, but as soon as he leaned up pain shot into his lower abdomen causing him to double back down. Taking a deep breath, he hoped Ludwig hadn't seen the wince that appeared on his face for a split second, on second thought, he hoped Ludwig hadn't seen that entire sequence. No such luck.

"Hm, in pain are we?" Ludwig asked, that sinister look of twisted pleasure adorning his face once more.

"Sod off." Arthur retaliated as he hacked up more blood, if he kept that up he'd die of blood loss from both his mouth and his wounds, he needed medical help, but he couldn't fight the German off, or run at all.

_Even if I did manage to escape I wouldn't get too far anyway being that I have two injured legs, sure an adrenaline rush would subside my pain for a short while but not for a long enough time to get to the nearest hospital which happens to be 375 feet due east from my exact point. Bloody hell why did I come here? I should've taken the left, there wasn't a dead end! I should have planned this better! _Arthur thought as he mentally cursed at himself for not thinking this through.

"Sorry, the answer is still no." Ludwig said breaking the Brit's concentration.

"Get away from me." Arthur said curtly

"And if I don't?"

"Well, you'll 'ave me to deal with, Germany." said a thickly French accented man that could only be Francis Bonnefoy.

Ludwig turned on his heel just so that Francis got a glimpse of Arthur. He instantly felt bad that he had waited this long to come.

"I knew I smelled a man in need of a shower." Ludwig taunted.

"For your information, I 'ave showered today." Francis added.

"Right. So let me guess, after you did all of that nothing that you do you decided to come save your girlfriend?" Ludwig now just thought this would be fun. A two birds, one shotgun bullet kind of deal, right?

"Girlfriend? I am NOT his-" Arthur was cut off by Ludwig single-handedly cocked his gun and shot him without even a glance for aim.

Arthur winced and tears welled in the corners of his eyes, he couldn't stand any longer, he was just shot in the ankle and he collapsed, landing on his hands and knees.

"Shut up." Ludwig commanded, cocking his gun yet again just in case the Englishman needed even more of an incentive to keep his mouth shut. Once he heard the almost silent sound of the Brit landing on the stone pathway he was satisfied, if he hadn't killed him, he'd at least immobilized him fully.

"Angleterre! Are you alright?" Francis shouted taking several brisk steps toward the smaller, broken looking man only to be stopped dead by Ludwig.

"You want to help him, ya?" Ludwig asked seeming more sympathetic than he had been.

"Oui." Francis stated defiantly.

"Then let me put him out of his misery."

"What? Never!" Francis exclaimed narrowing his eyes angrily at the German before him for thinking about doing that in the first place.

"Too bad, it doesn't really matter if you want it or not. I'm going to do it anyway. Maybe if you leave now I'll leave your pathetic country alone." Ludwig negotiated. He didn't know why he just wanted the Englishman dead above all else. It was a burning desire to have him dead by his own hand, and he wasn't about to let that wine-guzzling Frenchie stop him.

_Save Angleterre, or save myself… what to do… _Francis thought. He loved Arthur, but he didn't really want to die. Then again, he didn't want Arthur dead either…

"Go. Before I change my mind. Or you could stay and watch…" Ludwig trailed

Francis hesitated before deciding to stay. He knew his efforts would be futile anyway, if only those horrid brothers of Arthur's were there to help. Maybe things would be different. Francis really wanted to do something but he just knew he would end up getting them both killed. Ludwig was just too strong for him. Arthur was destined to die. Francis couldn't save him, all he could do was watch it happen.

Francis wished he was stronger, for times like these when he felt worthless.


End file.
